A History of Luck
In which history repeats itself. Repeatedly. Sometimes, but not always, for the worst.
The names listed in the family bible are becoming irritatingly familiar: an abundance of Patricks, Georges, Mathews, James. Hardly any deviation.
They are an unimaginative lot, the Crawley's. How is he supposed to keep track of them all when they blur into one?
The problem with the aristocracy, maybe the British in general, (in his opinion) is the tendency to become bogged down in tradition. To his own mind tradition sounds a lot like repetition and repetition? Well that is just boring.
Sometimes he wishes he had the freedom of his Branson cousins. Journalists, photographers, Formula 1 drivers: the world is their oyster and while Downton maybe a pretty cage, but it is a cage none the less.
He returns his attention to the book noticing for the first time a new name among the usual suspects. Strangely enough there is only one bloke named Robert before him. It piques his interest so he voices a question he's never thought to ask before,
"Why did you call me Robert?"
Across from him George Crawley, older and greyer but as sharp-eyed as ever, looks up from his paper, watching him curiously. To be fair Donk has a right to be curious, this is the most interest he's shown in the estate and its history for months.
Don't get him wrong, he does love Downton and the village that relies on it and the patronage the Earldom brings. But with Donk getting on he's beginning to feel the responsibility weighing down on him, and his shoulders aren't quite broad enough to take it yet. He's not religious but he prays his grandfather has many years ahead of him. He has so much left to learn from him. The last thing he wants is to let down the man who raised him.
"It was a suggestion I made to your mother before you were born. I told her it was lucky because the last holder of it was lucky. She didn't dislike it."
Looking back to check his date he asks, "This was your Donk right?" A nod and smile from his grandfather, "So lucky how?"
"Unbelievably lucky to hear him tell it. Told he would lose his estate; he finds a woman with enough money to save it. Sent to war in Africa; comes back hale and healthy to his family. By the time the Great War began he was too old to get involved. Has only daughters; manages to get one married to the incoming heir. Nearly lost his estate again; said heir bails him out. Even in the tragedy of losing my father; he was lucky that I was already born to inherit. Nearly dies at the dining table too, but is fortunate enough to have the local doctor next to him if you can believe it. Above all lucky enough to love that woman he had to marry and be loved in return. It kept him going through the trials of life, he told me."
"Sounds a good man."
"He was. Not perfect, certainly flawed. But a good man, a good Earl. And, well given your start in life, I thought you could do with all the luck you could get."
His start in life, like Donk's, involved a car crash. Unlike Donk this one took both his parents. His father died on scene, his mother at the hospital, after delivering him prematurely. Robert Henry Crawley: Downton's little miracle.
Silence reigns. Their shared tragedies may have created an unbreakable bond between them, but neither or them like to speak about it. Stiff upper lip and all that. He picks the book back up. Flicking through to the photograph section he finds a picture of Robert, stood next to a woman who the caption identifies as his mother, Lady Violet (Lady Violet, incidentally, is the spectre Donk would threaten him with as a child. "Robbie if you don't eat all your supper, Lady Violet will take away your toys.") and a baby that is his Great Aunt Sybbie.
His namesake doesn't look at all happy in this picture. Was this taken after nearly losing the estate twice? A quick look back at the time period confirms something he vaguely remembered. Sybbie's mother died in childbirth. Did Robert feel lucky then, that at least he had his granddaughter as Donk had his grandson? He's not sure he want's Robert's luck if it comes at the cost of Robert's history. How do you pick yourself up after falling so many times? He'd always thought luck was something you only recognise you had towards the end of your life.
Eventually the roar of a car engine can be heard making its way down the drive, interrupting his thoughts on the life and times of Robert Crawley. Donk folds his paper and puts it to one side.
"I believe that's our guests arriving, shall we?"
Closing his own book, he assists his grandfather in rising and walking out the front door to the waiting car.
One of the servants barely has time to open the car door, before a handsome chap in his forties bounds out and towards them.
"Uncle George, how you doing?"
"Very well Ted as you can see. I'm glad you could come. You remember my grandson?"
"Of course I do. Come here let Uncle Ted have a look at you! He's grown since I lost saw him! How long ago was that? 10 years ago?"
Theodore, or Ted as he prefers, is his uncle in the loosest of terms. He is very distantly related to Donk who is also his Godfather. He also attended Cambridge for a bit with his own father before going back to Harvard. Now he advises his "Uncle George" on Crawley investments home and abroad. Excitable, loud, and an unquestionable genius of a businessman. Under his guidance the Crawley coffers have never been fuller.
"I think so, Sir."
"Now, now, none of the formalities! Here let me reintroduce someone to you. You remember my daughter?"
Vaguely. He remembers a summer that was made a bit more interesting by her presence even if she didn't like to ride or called football soccer. A girl who was mainly all limbs and curly hair, very shy and softly spoken. Her accent made his name sound like "Rabbit" when she said it which other children mocked her for. But not him. He was the grandson of Lord Grantham, future Earl and gentleman in the making. He told her she could call him "Robbie" like Donk did and she smiled at him. That was 10 years ago.
Now though Uncle Ted's daughter is all grown up. No longer shy, she holds her head up high, holding his gaze with big brown eyes. Brownish, blondish hair curled over one shoulder, lips…
Donk coughs and he realises he has been staring. He'll be teased to kingdom come tomorrow. Stepping to her side He clears his throat and holds his arm out towards her, just remembering to slow it down before he accidentally elbows her in the chest.
See this is the problem: He's been focussed on school and learning the estate for so long he's no idea what to do or say. All his friends are male. What on earth do you say to a girl, woman even?
Eventually good breeding wins out and basic politeness will always cover a multitude of social sins and ineptitudes, "Welcome back to Downton, Miss Levinson. I hope you enjoy your stay with us."
She takes his proffered arm and with a smile that causes his heart to skip a beat answers, "I'm sure I will Robbie."
Somewhere in the back of his mind, where gut instinct lives and caution and anxiety are thrown to the wind, a thought sparks into life waiting for its turn in the light.
To tell him he wouldn't mind repeating some of Robert's story after all.